So . . . yeah. A week ago at this time I was floating over to the swim-up bar. The sun was beating down on my naked butt. My only dilemma: should I move to the beach or stay at the pool?
Today I am staggering into the kitchen for coffee, scratching the bug bites on my butt, and glaring at the snow outside my window. My only dilemma: should I go back to bed or do some work?
Re-entry is always difficult, but this year, it’s especially hard. Eight days in Jamaica = a soft, spongy brain and a relentless need to sleep and pretend this all isn’t happening. It isn’t, is it? I’m still on the beach? Dreaming this? No?
Gus jumps into my arms, purring and snuffling. I’m home. And truthfully, I am happy to be here.
I am just . . . not really here, I guess.
And I totally feel bad, y’all!
Not only did I leave you alone for over a week, but I have no snappy, entertaining post for you . . . even as of today!
I do have a few photos for you, along with a promise of more to come THIS WEEK. Like . . . more photos! And some actual words. And videos!
Until then . . .
It started with this:
Then there was a lot of this:
And even more of this:
A little of this:
Still more of this:
And, yes, there were plenty of potatoes. Potatoes of every kind!
And at the end of every day, there was this (only nude):
Instead of gawking at my undah-drawers, you should be impressed with the fact that I can balance billiard balls on my boobs . . .
Billiard Balls on My Boobs. That’s a song title, isn’t it?
See, I told you. I’m not really here yet.
But it’s good to be back.